I've started and stopped this particular piece several times, never quite knowing how to end it. That's the question, isn't it? How does one really end a campaign? For me, I knew this campaign would finish in such a way that it crafted a new beginning. The chronicles of my first fully home-brew party can (and have) set the stage for the rest of the world I'm building. While there are two timelines, the "real" one, the one which I intend to full share sometime in the future, is due to actions of these heroes. Even their more silly ones. :)
Without further ado - here it is. The end of all things for my crew. It probably won't make the most sense without context from the game itself... but I hope you find it an enjoyable read regardless.
"STOP. NO MORE. THIS ENDS," the violet scaled dragon roared, bleeding a purple-black goo from its eyes. It began to claw viciously at its face, slinging the viscous fluid from its maw. The ooze burned the ground, dissipating, and finally the dragon breathed... a sigh of relief. It sat calmly, taking no further action, hostile or otherwise.
The party stopped in its tracks. Belkas, his hand cannon leveled at Salanax over his left wrist, resisted the itch of his trigger finger. Bruce held his defensive stance, ready to bat away the next attack directed at his companions. Dacian froze in place, a hand reaching for yet another arrow to pepper the beast. Gaddock held close his flowing tankard holy symbol, uncertain whether he'd need it to inspire his compatriots or heal their wounds. And finally, Maltorius stilled the mechanical Winston in place, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Thank you. Thank you, my friends. It has been hundreds of
years since I've been myself. I've never been more grateful for any mortal's
assistance. I've made terrible, terrible mistakes. Things I cannot make amends
for, but I can fix it. And by virtue of that, perhaps we can fix other
travesties. I'd like your assistance one last time,"
The group shifted their eyes warily to one another, and their stances eased as they listened to Salanax's proposal.
"My people can do this only a few times in our lives. I'll take
you back to the moment I was possessed. Destroy the creature, that vile ooze, before it gets to
me, and none of this... none of this will come to pass. But be warned," it paused, shifting uneasily from one front claw to the other, nursing a combat wound. "It will change so much
in your world. Nothing will be as you know it. Once the task is complete, you
may not even be aware of what's come to pass. I'd advise saying your goodbyes,
just in case,"
"It's... over? Just like that?" Belkas sheathed his gun almost in annoyance. "You can just... fix things?"
"Well, it's not quite that simple," the dragon settled slowly to the ground, curling its tail around its limbs. "A battle lies ahead of you, and it will not be easy, but I trust you to be capable,"
Bruce crossed his arms, looking down in contemplation. "So what would change, if we went back? What fates would we be tampering with?"
"Time is never so simple as to tell an exact story... You should know that well, Bruce," the monk startled at the mention of his name before remembering this creature was far more than it had seemed. "Needless to say... It is unlikely that things will turn out very similarly. The... creature that was controlling me has been doing so for quite some time. Many events unfolded because it willed it to be so. As far back as the fall of Shendrack the Bold, the first king of the Kylindian barbarians..."
Bruce's eyes narrowed. A memory stuttered behind his glare, though he shared nothing.
"If Shendrack had not died so suddenly, King Shenris the First may not have risen to power or incited the second war. Several nobles of import may not have died. It would change the very basis of the power dynamic we currently have...." Salanax cast a saddened eye to the bloodied body of Shenris the II, the young boy's throat carved open, and the crumpled, broken form of The Shadow. "Some would suffer less, but that's not to say others won't suffer more."
"Well... I'll do whatever Gnomely wants to do," Dacian spoke up, striding aside the gnome and placing a hand upon his head. For once, Belkas did not dodge out of the misplaced affection.
Bruce nodded solemnly, stepping to join his companions. "It is my place to protect my companions. I will join them."
Gaddock wrinkled his nose, opening a flask and taking a large swig from it. "You all have done the time travel thing before. Sounds like a hoot. I'm in."
Belkas looked up, having put some thought into it. "There are some things that have happened I regret... and some I don't. Either way, I think saving Binxly before he goes missing might go a long way to helping my people. Least ways, they won't be split by squabbling parties, and less government sounds like a win to me!" He nodded with resolve, then turned his head to Maltorius.
Maltorius' brow furrowed, undoubtedly lost in a tangle of emotions and logic. Finally, feeling the eyes of all upon him, he raised his head to the group.
"I can't go with you. There's... There's something I have to do here. A wrong I have to make right. And if I leave this timeline, I may never get to do it,"
"Papa?" the mechanical dwarven form of Winston plodded over to his master, looking up at him curiously. The wizard extended his hand out and rested it on the mechanical wonder's helm.
"We're staying here, Winston,"
The rest of the group stood in awe for a moment. Maltorius had become, in so many ways, their leader. He was (much to Belkas' dismay) the smartest of the group, and always seemed to know the way forward. Arguably, his arcane knowledge and expertise made him both the most dangerous and most powerful among them.
Bruce was the first to respond. "I've always trusted your decisions. It's clear you have a reason to do this. Good luck,"
Dacian's lip quivered, his childlike nature taking full hold. He ran forward and gave the metal dwarf a big hug. "I'LL MISS YOU DWARFLY!" he cried, sobbing as the small mechanical man patted the cardinal elf's back comfortingly.
Gaddock tipped his flask in the wizard's direction before taking another swig and, finally, Belkas stepped forward and proffered his hand. A slight smile crossed Maltorius' face as he returned the handshake with one single, firm gesture.
"At least I'll be the smartest in the party now," he said half-heartedly, a grim smile on his face.
Mal stepped back,Winston following behind him. The Shadow, his back broken, legs twisted and useless, had worked his way to his elbows, looking over at the group grimly.
"Let your decisions make a better world for you, friends," he called gently, lowering his hood for the first time as Salanax began to utter the arcane words necessary for time travel. Bruce's eyes widened in recognition, but before he could say a word, the group disappeared.
Mal lowered his head. Any sense of remorse he had in his decision was fleeting at best. In the past few hours, he had discovered his destiny, and there was work to do to get there.
~*~*~*~*~
The battle against the Immortal Ooze was trivial for such an experienced party. Bruce's impassible defenses kept it at bay whilst Belkas' chronomancy wore it down. Dacian's arrows landed unerringly, the nimble elf zipping around the battlefield, never firing from the same spot. Gaddock kept his companions in prime condition, any stray strike leaving a sting for seconds at most. Truly, the heroes were in perfect sync, even if they were short a member.
Salanax kept its distance, high in the air, circling the battle to ensure nothing would interfere. Finally, as the ooze began to quiver and shake, the time dragon called out from above in desperation.
"A HOST! IT IS TRYING TO TAKE A HOST!"
Dacian's eyes drew the trajectory from the ooze to its intended target. 'GNOMELY!' he panicked, and with full conviction, he leaped forward, hands stretched out in front of him as if commanding the enemy to halt.
"DACIAN, NO!" Belkas reached out, but it was too late. The ooze surged forward, absorbing into the cardinal elf's hands. In a flash of dark purple, it was over, and the battlefield grew still. Slowly, Bruce, Gaddock, and Belkas began to approach. A light breeze fluttered the red feathers woven in the scout's dark hair, yet he made no other movement.
"D...Dacian?" Belkas finally called out, tentatively extending his hand forward, but fearful of what might happen were he to make contact. Slowly, Dacian turned to face his companions, an eerie smile on his face.
"He did it, guys!" he exclaimed excitedly, and unfolded the palm of his hand. In the center lay a small, stone figurine, carved in the shape of a donkey. "DONKLEY DID IT!"
"What." It wasn't a question, but Belkas couldn't manage anything else, and Bruce and Gaddock immediately broke into laughter. The elf, the deluded, chrono-plagued elf with the mind of a child, had trapped the ooze... in a figurine of wondrous power. A figurine that had been made to contain the single most stubborn ass (literally) on the face of Kylind.
Dacian smiled, looking down proudly at the figurine. "Donkley's a hero, ya'll!"
~*~*~*~
What happened next was a blur. The figurine was sealed away, deep below the earth and under mountains of dirt, stone, and even layers of forged metal. A monument, topped by the statue of a donkey, was crowned upon it, and many years later, this site would become the center of the largest castle square in the land. Many would never know its significance, and donkeys, forever more, would be so much more than simple beasts of burden.
After the ritual had been completed to seal away the figure, the saviors of the land slowly faded, each returning to their proper timeline. Their bonds, however, allowed them a single reprieve (or perhaps a gift): they remembered their adventures, their successes, their failures... even if the rest of the world would be none the wiser.
For Belkas, his family became well-known chronomancers and tinkers, and he was often recognized as being single-handedly responsible for ushering in a new age of marriage between science and magic. He provided advice to the collective democracies that formed under Counselor Binxley, avoiding a political position, though nevertheless guiding the future of his kind. Krankle's Krackshots would become a recognizable chain for firearms, explosives, and (mostly reliable) adventuring gear.
Bruce was never seen in "modern" times; being originally displaced himself, he was returned to his own distant timeline as guardian to Shendrack the First. This time, he never failed his mission and Shendrack lived to reveal the nature of her gender, becoming the first queen of Kylind. Bruce declined the position of queen-consort, instead establishing the Fists of Kylind - an order of monks bound to protecting the crown, maintaining relations with other kingdoms, and honing the volatile nature of the "barbarians" into a measured arm of order.
With the destruction of the god of time unwritten, the chrono plague never occurred, fundamentally altering the nature of chrono gnomes and other afflicted individuals... including Dacian. Dacian became captain of the Cardinal Guard, observing his brother's ascension to king and protecting his soon-to-be sister-in-law to his dying days. While his mind never regressed, he never lost his playful, and occasionally childish, nature.
The name Gaddock faded to obscurity; it wasn't that he was avoiding glory, but because, in his contemplation of the flow of time, he ascended. Truly embodying the nature of revelry and rejuvenation, he took on a new mantle: Bellak Sweetwine, the very god he had served from the start. No records remain indicating Bellak's origin; perhaps he had always been.
For Belkas, his family became well-known chronomancers and tinkers, and he was often recognized as being single-handedly responsible for ushering in a new age of marriage between science and magic. He provided advice to the collective democracies that formed under Counselor Binxley, avoiding a political position, though nevertheless guiding the future of his kind. Krankle's Krackshots would become a recognizable chain for firearms, explosives, and (mostly reliable) adventuring gear.
Bruce was never seen in "modern" times; being originally displaced himself, he was returned to his own distant timeline as guardian to Shendrack the First. This time, he never failed his mission and Shendrack lived to reveal the nature of her gender, becoming the first queen of Kylind. Bruce declined the position of queen-consort, instead establishing the Fists of Kylind - an order of monks bound to protecting the crown, maintaining relations with other kingdoms, and honing the volatile nature of the "barbarians" into a measured arm of order.
With the destruction of the god of time unwritten, the chrono plague never occurred, fundamentally altering the nature of chrono gnomes and other afflicted individuals... including Dacian. Dacian became captain of the Cardinal Guard, observing his brother's ascension to king and protecting his soon-to-be sister-in-law to his dying days. While his mind never regressed, he never lost his playful, and occasionally childish, nature.
The name Gaddock faded to obscurity; it wasn't that he was avoiding glory, but because, in his contemplation of the flow of time, he ascended. Truly embodying the nature of revelry and rejuvenation, he took on a new mantle: Bellak Sweetwine, the very god he had served from the start. No records remain indicating Bellak's origin; perhaps he had always been.
~*~*~*~
Hundreds of years later, a robed figure with a gilded staff stood over a long-forgotten grave. The ghost of a smile on his face, he knelt down, brushing aside dust that had caked over the epitaph.
Dedicated to the Unnamed Mage, to whom we would never have known victory. Without his crafting expertise and quick wit, evil would have reigned supreme and the kingdoms of Kylind lain shattered.
We miss you.
-B, B, D, and G-
He knew the grave lay empty, for it was intended for him. Mal lowered his hood, dark brown and unkempt hair swaying in the breeze... at least, to any onlooker unaware of his glamour. To be standing here centuries later, he had long since shed what remained of his mortal coil, replacing flesh and bone with cogs and metal. He rubbed his finger once more over the lettering, the adamantine alloy of his digits scraping it clean.
"Dad?" the wizard's thoughts broke as he turned to face his eternal companion, his "first son," and regarded him with a warm smile. The metal dwarf remained as he ever was, his features simple and yet still broadcasting intelligence and autonomy.
"Just had to see it for myself, Winston. We can go home now,"
"Oh good! I think Tanya's due soon. Or was due. Or is due. It all still confuses me."
Mal laughed. His other son, one born of his flesh and blood, had taken a wife as before... but this time, their fate would not be ill. "Well, we wouldn't miss the birth of my grandson for the world, now would we? Besides, we don't belong here," There was melancholy in his voice; from the start of his adventures, he'd always been running, fleeing. Never welcome where he once tread.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he stood, weaving one more spell before he departed the altered landscape of Kylind for the last time. His mark had been made, regardless of whether he remained to bear it witness. Now, it was for him to ensure the marks of so many others would remain intact.
Dedicated to the Unnamed Mage, to whom we would never have known victory. Without his crafting expertise and quick wit, evil would have reigned supreme and the kingdoms of Kylind lain shattered.
We miss you.
-B, B, D, and G-
He knew the grave lay empty, for it was intended for him. Mal lowered his hood, dark brown and unkempt hair swaying in the breeze... at least, to any onlooker unaware of his glamour. To be standing here centuries later, he had long since shed what remained of his mortal coil, replacing flesh and bone with cogs and metal. He rubbed his finger once more over the lettering, the adamantine alloy of his digits scraping it clean.
"Dad?" the wizard's thoughts broke as he turned to face his eternal companion, his "first son," and regarded him with a warm smile. The metal dwarf remained as he ever was, his features simple and yet still broadcasting intelligence and autonomy.
"Just had to see it for myself, Winston. We can go home now,"
"Oh good! I think Tanya's due soon. Or was due. Or is due. It all still confuses me."
Mal laughed. His other son, one born of his flesh and blood, had taken a wife as before... but this time, their fate would not be ill. "Well, we wouldn't miss the birth of my grandson for the world, now would we? Besides, we don't belong here," There was melancholy in his voice; from the start of his adventures, he'd always been running, fleeing. Never welcome where he once tread.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he stood, weaving one more spell before he departed the altered landscape of Kylind for the last time. His mark had been made, regardless of whether he remained to bear it witness. Now, it was for him to ensure the marks of so many others would remain intact.
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